


Come, Morning

by magalix3



Series: Grilling Pineapples [2]
Category: GOT7
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Phone Sex, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-28 11:00:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18207506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magalix3/pseuds/magalix3
Summary: Sometimes, Jaebum doesn't feel so far away.





	Come, Morning

**Author's Note:**

> bruh it’s been 2 years life comes at you hecken FAST  
> also if you haven’t read crash course idk if this is gonna make much sense. some side stuff relies on the backstory

Youngjae’s trying to reel back in his patience, since class clown Jonah had only just been placated enough to lie down for an afternoon nap. Youngjae can hear Jaebum reminding him he’s good at this, he’s got the patience of an angel, the temper of a saint, so he has no need to worry about teaching a Kindergarten class. Youngjae takes a deep breath. Right. He’s got this.

He’d never envisioned that being a Kindergarten teacher would be so difficult. He knew it’d be tiring and would require much energy, but he’s always liked kids and he’s always been the one with boundless vitality. Dealing with spitballs, or kids yelling curse words when they’re not supposed to, or pelting plastic fruit when they’re supposed to be playing house, or opening their mouth and going at him with brutal honesty, however, takes a different type of toll on his soul. 

But, after years of searching, Youngjae finally found the position he wanted. He’d worked in an elementary school’s office for some time, grit through unwelcoming old ladies as coworkers and entitled parents as guests, and hadn’t been happier to quit when he finally landed a position he wanted. He’d spent half a year shadowing the now-retired teacher he’s replaced, but it’s still daunting to do it on his own. 

He’d taken too many rejections, got too worked up over a mile-long line of fruitless interviews, spent so many nights crying in his fiancé's arms, that complaining about any aspect of the job now would seem ungrateful.

“Kids have so much energy, huh?” Miss Miranda, the teacher from across the hall, pokes her head in. Youngjae’s still new at this, it took about a month before he stopped jumping every time a child mumbled or rolled over in their sleep during naptime, and Miss Miranda’s soothing nature eases him every time. 

He gives her his signature cheery grin that he knows wins over so many hearts. “I feel revitalized by their energy.”

Miss Miranda puts a hand over her heart, her other hand reaching up to push her boxy glasses up her nose. Her long acrylic nails always match the season; and the hazy oranges and browns remind Youngjae more of Massachusetts, than of the sweltering, late-September Florida heat. “I’m so glad you’re the one that replaced Mrs. Taft. You genuinely like kids. I don’t understand people that come into these positions with a miserable attitude. Why work with children if you don’t like them?”

“They probably think teaching’s easy. I just really like knowing that I can be a positive influence, y’know?” Youngjae replies, looking back at the sleeping kids sprawled across the classroom. Another ten minutes or so, and he has to go wake up the kids and make sure they get back to lessons. Miss Miranda grins beautifully, and reminds him, as she does every day, that she’s just across the hall.

 

When Friday finally rolls around, Youngjae doesn’t even care that he sticks around to wait for a parent that’s running late. Noah behaves the best out of all the children in his class, and Youngjae wonders if it’s okay to have a favorite student. 

Noah sticks his hands in the air and Youngjae kneels to lift him up. He used to bend at the waist to lift the children, but has stopped since Jackson gave him an earful that he can really pull a muscle, even if it’s just a small child he’s lifting. Even if it’s just Noah, the smallest boy in the class. 

“Yes?”

“Mr. Choi,” The little boy starts very matter-of-factly, “My doggy died last night.”

Oh.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Are you okay? How are you feeling?” His heart twists and he tries not to think about it. He’s a huge softie that’ll mourn the lost life of his student’s pet. He didn’t even know Noah had a dog. But now he’s going to think about it all night and cry.

At least he’ll be with Jackson, who’s a sympathetic crier.

Noah reaches into his backpack that hangs over his elbow, brandishing a little stuffed toy dog. It might be a look-a-like, and now Youngjae’s imagining small Noah playing with a mild-tempered and sprightly husky, and he might cry sooner than expected.

“Yeah, but my mommy saved his life.” He holds the stuffed toy by its’ tail and a huge wave of relief and mild embarrassment floods through Youngjae. He almost drops Noah, while Noah babbles on about how their cat (a real, living and breathing one named Teddy) had chewed off stuffed dog’s tail late at night, and Noah’s mother had ‘performed surgery’ and they’d stopped the bleeding right on time. The tail is all wrapped up, and Youngjae takes it from Noah’s tiny fingers.

“Maybe you shouldn’t…. hold him by the tail. It’s still healing.”

Noah nods frantically and hugs the toy to his chest. His mother appears then, looking flustered and apologetic. Youngjae assures her it’s okay. He really needed to hear the end of the story, anyway, before he embarrassed himself further by expressing heartfelt condolences to the passing of what he now knows, is a stuffed toy dog. 

Out in the hall, Youngjae does one last dig through his backpack to make sure he has everything he needs for the weekend, then swings it over one shoulder and locks his classroom door. Miss Miranda is a few steps down the hall, looking back at him as though waiting. Her long, russet hair has been pulled from a bun, and it’s so pretty and wavy now that it falls.

“What are your weekend plans?” She doesn’t usually ask, most of their conversations don’t make it outside of work-topics, but Youngjae doesn’t mind the small-talk.

“Seeing a friend of mine, we’re just gonna hang around, maybe watch TV. I’ll call my fiancé at some point.” It’s boring and uneventful, but after a week of chasing toddlers while knowing that another one is to come, Youngjae needs to de-stress. Having Jackson over so they can yell at the television together makes for the best kind of night. Sometimes they end up at a bar, and a little light drinking and complaining always works well, too. Youngjae still needs to adjust to the new schedule and demands that comes with the new job.

Miss Miranda looks at him curiously now. “I’ve noticed your ring, it’s gorgeous. Where’s your fiancé working?” She glances towards the ring around Youngjae finger, the diamonds shy and modest.

“Thank you. And he’s working in Spain for a few months.”

Miss Miranda glances up at the pronoun. It’s not something that’s come up before, and while Youngjae is out and proud, he chooses a time and place for certain topics, especially in professional settings.

“When’s he coming back from his work trip?”

“Mid-December.” 

It’s only when they’re outside, saying goodbye to administration, that Youngjae turns the original question back to her. They brush over weekend plans; Youngjae honestly interested in Miss Miranda’s visiting family stories, but they’re short on time. Conversation with her is always pleasant; Miss Miranda’s over-all a sweetheart, attentive and devoted to her kids, kind and welcoming to the other teachers, and Youngjae appreciates her help and her company. Now, he feels less apprehensive about his coworkers. 

He really thinks he’s settling in alright.

 

****

** \-------------------------------------- **

Midway through trying to wrangle Jonah from off the arts and crafts table without squashing Rachel’s macaroni art, Youngjae hears the familiar buzz of his phone vibrating in his bag from near his desk. He doesn’t think much of it; and manages one arm around Jonah’s waist, hauling him off the table. Rachel scoots over a bit so she’s not stepped on, and lathers a rigatoni in way too much glue.

His phone comes to life again, while Jonah’s running across the room weidling a plastic banana from the kitchen playset, while Youngjae uses his own hands to wipe the still-wet glue from Rachel’s fingers before she gets it on her clothes, or in her hair or her mouth or her eyes — his phone rings again. 

It rings another two times before lunchtime, and once the kids are down the hall in the cafeteria being watched by someone else, he side-steps Miss Miranda and Mr. Kirby (a first grade teacher,) with a quick apology, and runs back to his classroom.

Seven missed calls from his brother. Youngjae sits at his desk and dials Jaehyun back, nerves rising when Jaehyun jumps right into it.

“I’m sorry I called so many times. I panicked. Mom fell and she’s in the hospital —”

“She _what_?” Youngjae grips the edge of his desk, reminding his body that there’s nothing he can from another state, not at this moment. 

“She tripped at work, going up some stairs, she’s okay. She’s fine, she’ll get worker’s comp and be in a cast for five or six weeks.”

“A _cast_?”

“She broke her ankle. Oh. I should’ve started with that.”

One of these days he’s going to properly strangle his brother. “It happened today?”

“Yeah, I called you on the way to the hospital. The doctors said they’ll keep her over night and she can go home tomorrow. Minah and I’ll be here when we’re not working.”

Youngjae stares at the floor, leaning against his desk, tapping his fingers against the plastic in a way to try and redirect his rising anxiety. There’s really nothing he can do from here. Not now. While his family has proved that distance doesn’t matter and can’t separate them, it makes this harder. Years ago, things had been rough; his parents divorced, he used college as an excuse to run away from the troubles at home, and created a distance between him and his siblings that lost years between them. He’s mended his broken relationship with his family since, and his mother has done nothing but dote on him, remind him that she’s proud, and tell him that she lives for his updates and nightly calls. Jaehyun calls him fairly regularly, just to talk, even if it’s about nothing, and Minah likes to send dumb memes that sometimes sparks conversation. They send selfies when they’re all together. It’s only sometimes that Youngjae feels bad for not being in the photo.

“I can come up this weekend.” Youngjae says. It had stopped being ‘home’ so many years ago. He runs his thumb around the ring on his third finger.

He does regret, though, that with how hectic things have been with the new job and exhausting commute and weird-hour phone calls to speak to Jaebum, he hasn’t been reaching out to his mother the way he had before. 

He spins between regret and guilt and then, neither of those things.

“You don’t have to. Minah and I got it, and I know you’re busy with the new job.”

Youngjae puts his brother on speaker, switching apps to filter for Friday evening flights to Massachusetts. “I have weekends off, I can come up for Friday night and leave Sunday.”

“You’ll hate yourself Monday morning.”

He’s pulled all-nighters for college. He’s sure he can handle one Sunday night with little sleep. “It’s fine.”

“How about, alright. Wait. Hold up. I’ll just have mom call you once she’s awake. She’s still sleeping.”

Youngjae stares at airfare. “Okay. Sounds good.”

 

****

** \-------------------------------------- **

Soyeon insists she’s fine. For days, she insists everything’s okay, that the pain meds do their job and she can hobble fine around the apartment and get herself something to eat when Minah’s in class and Jaehyun’s at work. She does her best to prove it, too, and orders take-out when Youngjae transfers her some money because he’d rather she keep from moving around too much. He receives photos of a mug of tea, a bowl of salad, maybe some rice and eggs, all as proof that she’s fairing well. But Youngjae struggles with being so far and can’t do anything for her. Soyeon has always taken care of him, always loved him, and divorced her unloving, stoic and controlling husband around the same time Youngjae went away.

While she says she thinks it’s poetic that they both flew from the nest at the same time, Youngjae wishes he could do more. He doesn’t think he does enough for his mother. It’s hard to balance time between his and Jaebum’s families; alternating spending Christmas and New Years in two different states. It’s hard to figure out where to go during other holidays as well, and last year’s chuseok celebration at Jaebum’s parents house had been awkward. Soyeon gets along great with Marcie, but whenever Marcie’s around Youngjae knows she overcompensates over being guilt-ridden for pushing her son away so many years ago, putting on the ‘perfect family’ act that Jaebum has stopped trying to fight against.

Youngjae smiles at a selfie his sister sends him, Minah and Soyeon at the doctor for a check-up. 

 

****

** \-------------------------------------- **

Jaebum has placed the phone on his face, so Youngjae has a great view of his boyfriend’s poreless skin. “I want to see your face.”

“This _is_ my face.”

Youngjae rolls his eyes and wishes Jaebum had seen how dramatic it was. “Smartass, this is isn’t what I meant.”

There’s a grunt, some blurry shuffling, a great view of a lazily spinning ceiling fan, and the sound of Jaebum hitting some body part on something solid, followed by a curse. His face fills the screen after a moment. He’s lying in bed on his belly, face in a pillow and his phone leaning against the headboard. He’s off center, but seeing his whole face and messy black hair makes Youngjae all dopey. It’s been a few days since he’s seen even a selfie of Jaebum, so seeing his face brings a rush of giddy joy that Youngjae doesn’t bother containing.

The way Jaebum’s eyes curve into sweet little crescents is of shared sentiment.

“I love you, sunshine.” He says. 

Youngjae blows a kiss to the screen. “I love you too, Bummie.”

“I miss you.”

“I miss you, too.”

“I miss you _more._ ”

Youngjae rolls his eyes. “I’m not doing this.”

Jaebum laughs at that, burying his face in the pillow for a second, then lifting it again. “Te quiero, mi amor.”

“Hm,” Youngjae closes his eyes and hums. “I like it when you speak Spanish.”

“Y’know, it’s important that I _learned_.” And the mood drops, just like that, and Youngjae laughs as Jaebum charges on. “Fuckin’ Jerry won’t learn a single word in Spanish because he’s a pretentious, old ass white man that _really_ think it’s fine to travel to another fuckin’ country for a semester abroad and assume that he can just talk to everyone in English until they get someone to translate. Then he gets mad when I go places with him, or send Maria or Nancy to go with him, because they actually _speak_ Spanish. Jerry can’t be left alone, or he’ll cause a scene.”

“Make that the ten-thousandth reason why I hate him.”

“Try _being_ here with him. He still carries dollars in his pocket. This is _Spain_ , where they use _euros_. He’s an entitled son of a bitch. I swear I almost strangled him with his ugly-ass paisley ascot today.” Jaebum’s sitting now, all worked up, holding his phone at a weird angle. “The students think it’s funny and purposely try to peg us against each other.”

“You should definitely punch him, or! Push him into the ocean and let the sharks feed on him.”

“I want to.”

“It would serve him right! Especially after he complained about you being ‘one of the homosexuals’ and wanted you off the trip.” He’s not trying to add fuel to the fire, but Youngjae also has a lot of feelings about Jerry. He had bumped into Jerry once outside of Jaebum’s office, a few years after graduation, and it’s a bitter memory. Jerry scowled as Jaebum introduced his boyfriend to his colleague, and almost immediately inquired Youngjae’s age. It doesn’t help that Jaebum and Mark have had bitch fests over the guy in the very room Youngjae’s in right now, filling him on everything else he’d need to know to keep Jerry in his shit list. It’s unsettling to know that Jaebum works alongside the guy on another continent. 

Jaebum clenches his jaw and closes his eyes and even though the screen gets kind of blurry, Youngjae can see the tension in his neck, the bulging of his veins and the force it takes for him to calm himself. Jaebum hates Jerry. Hates with with a passion that Youngjae’s never seen before, and he really shouldn’t be egging on Jaebum’s temper. The semester still has another few months to go and the two need to find middle ground to work on together and educate, since that’s the whole purpose of a semester abroad.

“When the students give their reviews he’s not gonna be allowed to do anything abroad ever again.” Youngjae offers as solace. “Besides, he’s ugly anyway. I’m not so sure what he’s so worried about you being gay for. It’s not like you’re gonna go after that saggy ass.”

The corner of Jaebum’s lips curl upwards, just a bit. “He’s like, sixty.”

“Yeah. And you like ‘em nice and young.” Youngjae grins stupidly and brings a peace sign to cover his face. “Like me. Young and still in our prime.”

He hears the sweet twinkling of Jaebum’s quiet laughter. “Your prime? Please. You’re old.”

Youngjae gasps with false offense, drops his phone on his face, and chokes on the same gasp. The fumble is so worth it, because Jaebum laughs freely now, with that infectious sound and with that dumb smile that made Youngjae fall in love with him in the first place. It still makes his heart stutter.

“I remember what it was like being twenty-six. Everything started to hurt and my hangovers got worse.”

“And you’re thirty-three, but complain and reminisce like an eighty-year old.”

“I’m sorry, _I_ complain like an eighty-year old? I remember you telling me that your feet hurt after being on them all day, and that carrying kids made your arms and shoulders hurt, and a few nights ago you slept funny and woke with a crick in your neck —”

“Please stop.” Youngjae groans, hiding his face in his palm. “I can’t believe we’ve grown old after only six years.”

When there’s a moment of silence that stretches on too long, Youngjae removes his hand from his face to look at his phone. Jaebum stares fondly at him, the angle crooked, but he’s still there, beautiful and unmoving for such a long time that Youngjae would’ve thought the connection froze, had it not been for the spinning shadows of the ceiling fan behind Jaebum.

“I love you.” Jaebum says with so much of his heart in his eyes that it settles a deep, deep longing in Youngjae’s chest. 

“I love you too, Jaebum.” Youngjae sits up on the couch, cradling his phone with both hands, because it’s the closest he can be to his fiancé. “And I miss you.” There’s more here, more than the playfulness of before. He’s trying to project his heart and soul, hoping that Jaebum can feel his sincerity and fondness even though they’re thousands of miles apart, even though Jaebum’s six hours ahead, already in tomorrow.

“Should I go home for break?”

Youngjae’s chest tightens. He wants to be selfish and he wants Jaebum here right now. He wants to say that he can’t wait, that he’ll countdown the weeks until Jaebum returns, even if it’s only for a short while. But he wants Jaebum to know that he’s supported this decision of being apart for nearly five months from the very beginning. It’s not every day that Jaebum gets a free trip to the beautiful country of Spain to do what he loves the most; to be by the sea while teaching for a whole semester. Youngjae wants Jaebum to know that even though he’s missed, Youngjae’s ecstatic for him. Jaebum should immerse himself in the experience and enjoy his time there even if it means they’re not together.

“I want you to have fun.” He says, tightening his grip on his phone. “Please don’t rush it, this is such an amazing experience for you.”

Jaebum nods, his expression and smile full of a fondness that Youngjae recognizes too well. “I love you so much.” He says it so softly, like the hum of the ceiling fan behind him, that Youngjae almost misses it. “How’s your mom, by the way? We’ve been playing phone-tag all day. I call her when she’s busy, she calls me when I’m busy.” Jaebum’s expression smooths out, concerned again. 

Youngjae sighs, rubbing at his face. He’s still worried and feels useless for being far away, but his mother is stubborn. Beyond stubborn. “Yesterday she decided to go for a walk by herself, while she’s still in a _cast_ , and Minah found her sitting in the park. She was fine, and got back no problem, and she says she’s healing alright and nothing hurts, but she needs to stop being so independent. What if she fell? What if something happened while she was by herself? I’m so worried.”

“Why don’t you go see her? Don’t have a three day weekend soon?” Jaebum offers, “The flights not that long.”

“Yeah, I’ll go this weekend. I’ll ask Mark and Jinyoung to watch Nora.”

“How’s my baby doin’?” Jaebum asks as though he doesn’t receive more photos of Nora than of his own fiancé.

“I’m fine. Thanks for asking.”

Jaebum’s happy smile drops. “Babe.”

“Babe.”

“ _Babe._ ” It’s a full whine. 

“She’s sleeping on the couch.” Youngjae turns the phone so Jaebum can see her curled up, snoozing, like she has been for most of the evening. He turns the camera back to himself. “Happy?”

“How could I feel anything else when looking at your handsome face?”

Youngjae fake gags, to hide how stupid happy the comment makes him. “Gross.”

“Too sappy?”

“You’re the king of being sappy.”

“So I was talking to Mark…” The abrupt change and mention of Mark’s name means bad news. 

“Uh-huh...” Youngjae’s not sure what to brace himself for, but he’s bracing.

“And I miss you.”

“You were talking to Mark about missing me?”

“Don’t you talk to Jackson and Bam and Yug about missing me?”

“No.”

“I know you do.”

“You have no proof.”

Jaebum lies on his belly again, resting his chin in his palm. It won’t be long before his arm falls asleep in that position, it’s habitual, at this point. “Anyway.” He says with a little smirk. “We should change things up. Do something different.”

He has a gleam in his eye, and Youngjae’s not liking it. “Why am I scared?”

“Don’t be!”

“Just say what you want to say!”

“We should have phone sex.”

Youngjae gapes, almost drops his phone. “I’m hanging up on you.”

“Hear me out!”

“Good night!”

“Babe!”

Youngjae yells good night in Korean.

“Baaaaaaaabe!”

Youngjae hangs up and flops over pats his cheeks, trying to force away his blush. He waits until Jaebum’s sent him three dozen (individually sent) crying emotions before responding through text, _I’ll think about it!!!! Don’t ask me again!!!!_

Jaebum responds with an eggplant emoji.

Then two.

Then; eggplant emoji, heart, eggplant emoji.

Youngjae threatens to block him.

 

****

** \------------------------------------- **

Youngjae doesn’t recognize his sister’s new car, and Minah presents the yellow hatchback with a flourish. “This is the adult-est thing I’ve ever done.”

Her hair has gotten so much longer, and she plays with it while they drive, filling Youngjae in on the small accomplishments she’s been making; a promotion at a job she doesn’t totally hate, a small apartment of her own, this car, she’s thinking about adopting a dog, and Youngjae loves listening to his sister talk, loves the way she smiles and looks like mom when her eyes light up. Even if they hadn’t spoken for a while, with both of them being crushed by their own personal lives, they click right back into place together.

Soyeon doesn’t change — not much, anyway. She keeps her hair short now, and has been letting the greys grow through. She brings her son in for a tight hug, swaying them back and forth while Minah takes Youngjae’s suitcase and sets it in the other room. Youngjae holds his mom in his arms until she’s laughing and pulling away, cupping his face with her warm hands. The weather up north feels like the fall he remembers, crisp against his exposed cheekbones. Soyeon moves to make tea, to fight of the chill.

Minah has class, and parts with a quick kiss on her mom’s cheek, and breezes by Youngjae, “See you later, ugly.”

“Don’t ever come back.” Youngjae sticks his tongue out at her as she flips him off.

Soyeon turns to the cabinets, finding mugs. “Tell me all about the kids in your class.”

Boy, does Youngjae have stories to share.

 

 

Friday night slips into Saturday, and Saturday passes like a breeze. His mother fawns over his accomplishments, and Youngjae dreads heading back Monday evening, wishing he could extend his stay even if it’s only for a few days.

“Why would you stay? Your life isn’t here, anymore.” Soyeon says as he loads the dishwasher for her. “And you’re living it the best you can, with a man that proudly loves you…” She pulls his hand from the soapy water and Youngjae stays silent, watching the way she sighs affectionately at his ring. “God, when’s the wedding?”

“Probably next year. We’ll plan it when he’s back from Spain.” 

Jaebum had proposed without any hints; Youngjae can’t even remember when he’d been asked for his ring size, so the proposal came as a total surprise. Jaebum had planned a whole night of just them, prepared a bubble bath with oils in the water and wine in-hand and brought up the idea of marriage while his thumbs pressed into the pressure points of Youngjae’s feet. He presented the ring later, with shaking hands and a determined look in his face, with Youngjae sitting on his lap on the couch, remote in hand and stupefied expression on his face while some commercial played in the background.

“You two really haven’t talked about a single thing?” Soyeon prods, smiling at the small diamonds. “Nothing at all?”

“Well, Jackson’s gonna be my best man.” Youngjae tries not to feel too giddy, but he’s practically bursting with excitement. “Bambam and Yugyeom plan on flying in from Korea for the week, um,” He’s trying not to get too ahead of himself, trying not to plan the small details like colors of bow-ties and suits and what flowers he wants lining the main isle, without his fiancé. “Jinyoung’s gonna be Jaebum’s best man, and Anna’s gonna be the flower girl.”

Soyeon looks up at the name, a huge grin blossoming across her face. “Is it all set? Are they all set?”

“Yeah, the adoption paperwork went through. Can you imagine Mark and Jinyoung? _Dads_?” The thing, though, is that it’s not a far fetched idea. It makes perfect sense for the two of them. Youngjae still cried when they announced that they were going for it, though, and kissed them both.

“And what about you and Jaebum?” Soyeon’s lips twitch, but she can’t keep it together, especially not when Youngjae wiggles his hand free from hers, wiping his hand on his sweater as if trying to wipe away the idea.

“It’s, we’re — mom. Please. We’re not married yet.”

“Minor detail! Not important!”

“We still live in a one-bedroom apartment.”

“If you adopt a baby, well, that’ll be easier. You’ll want the crib in your room.”

Youngjae almost drops the dish he’s holding, shoving it onto the top rack of the dishwasher and using his foot to shut the door quicker. He almost forgets the soap, and ducks away from his mom’s super-famous you’re-not-getting-out-of-this-one look.

“ _Mom_.”

“Youngjae.”

“Please,” He whines, squirting too much soap in the holder. “It’s too fast. We only got engaged, like, six months ago.”

Soyeon moves to hold his face again. She’s looking at him the same way she always has — that bare look of pride she gets when he accomplishes something. It’s a look that’s made him feel validated; like all his hard work, all his effort and time and tears were worth it, but this still isn’t the end. Soyeon looked at him like this when he learned to drive, when he told her he worked up the courage to ask out his prom date, when he got accepted into college, when he told her that he and Jaebum were moving in together. She looked at him like this when he dropped AP Chem in high school, because his mental health was more important than overloading himself.

“I’m so proud of you,” She says. 

Youngjae tilts his head into her palm. 

“I love you so, so much.” She runs her thumb over his cheekbone. 

And Youngjae leans in to give her a hug, wishing that there were more ways to say _thank you_.

 

****

** \-------------------------------------- **

Youngjae talks about his mother with Miss Miranda, who has one foot in Youngjae’s ‘friend’ circle. Mr. Kirby hangs around a bit more, too, and stares at Miss Miranda a lot. Youngjae wonders if it’s okay to ship his two coworkers. They’re both single and attractive and she’s only a few years younger. They’ve been bonding over similar television shows and interests. It makes sense. When they invite him out for Friday night drinks at the bar he declines and heads home. It’s been a few days since he’s been able to Facetime with Jaebum, and it’s all he’s been thinking about all day.

He settles in bed, propping his phone up so he doesn’t have to hold it with his hands, and he can lie comfortably on his side. He grins when Jaebum answers, already in his usual pose; on his stomach, hand raised to rest his chin in his palm.

“Hola, mi amor.”

Youngjae responds in Korean, the only other language he knows, and Jaebum’s smile flourishes. “How was Jonah today? Any more chair-flipping happen? Did you have to play nurse, again?”

“I really don’t want to talk about how Jonah shoved three crayons in his mouth and then threw a glue bottle at Bailey.” Youngjae snuggles his pillow more, blinking tiredly at his phone. He bites back a laugh when Jaebum doesn’t hold in his own.

“You work so hard.”

“How were your students today?”

Jaebum shrugs, dropping down to lay his head against the pillow. His hotel room is dark tonight, the only light coming from a lamp. “A terror. I think they’re getting homesick. Carmen spent all afternoon by my side, talking about her family, and then got drunk at dinner. I had to practically carry her to her room and dump her off to Chelsea, her roommate, who asked if I was one-hundred percent gay.”

“Oof.” Youngjae sucks his teeth. “Was she hitting on you?”

“I don’t think so? I’m about, twelve years older than her, though. _And_ one-hundred percent gay. So that’d never happen. I think she was looking out for Carmen.”

“You’re probably the best professor they picked for the trip. I have no idea what they were thinking with Jerry.”

Jaebum buries his face in the pillow. Hot and cute and intelligent, Youngjae really counts his blessings every day.

“You are, though.You know that, right?” Heat creeps through Youngjae’s chest. “And you’re smart. You’re super smart. Don’t forget I know what it’s like to be your student, and sit in on your lectures, and watch you stand up in front of everyone, all professor-ly and smart, _And_ you’re hot! That’s what got my attention.” He grins when Jaebum tips his head to peek up at the phone, and they make eye contact for a split second.

“Don’t make it sound so perverted.”

“Just saying. You get really into the things you like, it’s pretty sexy.” Okay, maybe the darkening look in Jaebum’s eyes isn’t giving him the confidence he needs “Like in Bio, when you talked about, uh… DNA? Like.. the…” All the confidence he had completely dissipates. Sexy talk he can’t do, so he defaults to humor. “Ribosomes?”

Jaebum nearly wails, looking like Youngjae kicked Nora, or something. “Did I teach you _nothing_?!”

Youngjae cackles like a madman. “The mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell!”

“That’s a _vine_ reference! This is it. I’ve never.” Jaebum kneels, a hand over his chest and a hand in his hair. “I’ve never been so offended. I’m un-engaging you.”

“You can’t make up words just because you have a doctorate, Jaebummie.”

“It’s Dr. Im, PhD to you, asshole.”

“Did you do you dissertation on pretentiousness?” God, how Youngjae wishes he could reach out and hold Jaebum’s face, squish his face between his palms and kiss him until they’re both drunk on each other. Especially since Jaebum looks so torn, like he needs some serious comforting in the face of Youngjae’s betrayal.

“Please tell me you know what a ribosome does.”

“You haven’t taught Bio 101 in years.”

With both his hands covering his face, Jaebum really truly looks like he’s having a crisis, reconsidering his whole life. “I’m here for Marine Biogeochemistry in the Mediterranean Sea but General Biology is my favorite pastime.”

“All I hear are nerd words.”

“Oh my God,” Jaebum laments, Youngjae laughs harder. “Oh my _God_.” He acts like it’s the end of the world. “I’m burning my degrees and setting them off to sea on a canoe. This is the death of my teaching career.”

Jaebum rants about cells and golgi something or other, and Youngjae listens absently, missing him. He’s still always here, always thinking of Youngjae; sending regular updates of his day, of the small side streets in Spain, of the coffee he has for breakfast, of the ocean, and of the little crabs that crawl over his toes. These little things connect them, reminds Youngjae that he’s loved, and that makes the distance bearable. Seeing Jaebum flourish in his field, chasing his passion, however, makes it all worth it.

Youngjae digs through the (very very deep) recesses of his mind and remembers that mitochondria converts energy into cell food.

Jaebum breathes a sigh of relief. “Jesus, that’s the hottest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

 

****

** \-------------------------------------- **

Alright. Attempt number two at phone sex.

Youngjae forgets everything Jackson told him from earlier, since going to him for advice on this had been a huge mistake, and now Jackson knows that Youngjae and Jaebum will (potentially, if Youngjae doesn’t screw this up again) have phone sex. That’s a little embarrassing. At this point in their friendship, Jackson could sink a battleship with all the knowledge he has on Youngjae. Jackson’s going to tease him about this until they die.

Youngjae waits a few days, tries to amp himself up, to remind himself that this is _Jaebum_. The love of his life. The man that’s seen him at his lowest, and grossest, like that time they were both sick with food poisoning and suffered sharing a bathroom through it, or that time Jaebum held him while he sobbed so hard snot came out of his nose. Also, turning the thought in another direction; they’ve played with toys in bed. Phone sex seems pretty mild, in comparison, especially that one time Jaebum edged Youngjae until he cried and begged against the sheets. He glances towards the nightstand, thinking of the few things they have hiding in there. He pulls the drawer open, takes one look at the vibrator and its’ remote amongst other things, then shoves the drawer shut. Maybe next time. Maybe he should ease into this.

That’s how he tackles conversation, too. Ease into it. Start with regular questions, nothing too suspicious, but his heartbeat pounds in his ear. Then, Jaebum says,

“I’m gonna lie down, babe.”

Okay, perfect. Jaebum takes his shirt off to sleep and turns on the ceiling fan, lying in bed facing they lamp, so the dim lighting illuminates just enough for Youngjae to see Jaebum’s face, the smoothness of his stomach, the shape of his arm, the two, cutest little moles above his eyes.

“I miss you.” Youngjae says, hyper-focusing on one section of his phone screen. He’s gonna do it. He’s going to try and get this started. “Come here so I can kiss those beauty marks on your eyelid.”

Jaebum smiles at him. “I love it when you do.” He reaches up to touch them, but a bandage around his finger pulls Youngjae’s attention.

“What happened to your finger?”

“Oh,” Jaebum raises it closer to the camera. All Youngjae can see is the bandage. “I got bit by a fish. It was nasty.”

“Fish have teeth?” Youngjae regrets his words as soon as they’re out of his mouth.

Jaebum sends him a flat look paired with an amused tone. “Piranhas.”

“I know. I _know._ ” Youngjae groans and smothers himself with a pillow.

“Sharks. And, just, all the fishes.”

Okay, so, maybe tonight ends as a dud as well.

 

(Youngjae wakes to a photo of Jaebum standing on a boat, a student at his side, the two of them holding a fish so the teeth are prominent and Youngjae just _knows_ that Jaebum told all of his super smart Bio major students that his fiancé momentarily forgot fish had teeth.)

 

****

** \-------------------------------------- **

Okay.

Here we go.

Just jump right into it.

Jaebum sits propped against pillows and the headboard, looking cozy and comfortable in just his boxers. It’s been another week or so since the last attempt, even longer since he had first offered the idea without a single mention of it since. Youngjae knows that Jaebum won’t push it simply because he asked, but a little help would be nice. Not that he wants to ask for it.

It’s ridiculous because he knows what Jaebum likes, he’s familiar with ways that’ll leave Jaebum gasping for breath, he knows that Jaebum’s most sensitive right under the head of his dick, and keens for kisses on his jawline. Youngjae knows how to make Jaebum dizzy with want, but for some reason, this makes him nervous. Not a bad nervous, he wants to do this. He just wants to do it right.

“Qué haces, mi vida?” Jaebum’s usual script.

Youngjae responds with, “Bueno,” but remembers that he’s trying for something else today. Attempt what-feels-like-three-thousand; “I’ve been thinking about you. I miss you.” Sounds practiced.

“I know. The bed feels empty.” Jaebum fidgets, slumping lower into the pillows with a frown. “I can’t wait to cuddle you.”

“I wanna be little spoon.”

Jaebum smiles fondly. That’s not the desired reaction. 

So Youngjae just, “That’s my favorite position. Especially in the mornings, when we wake up like that, y’know? All pressed together, you wrapped around me.”

Ah, and now Jaebum catches on, his eyebrows inching up his forehead. 

“I feel safe in your arms, Jaebummie.”

Jaebum’s lip part into a small little ‘o’, his eyes widening, glancing up towards the door. He seems a little apprehensive for someone who originally pitched the idea. “I like it when we wake up like that, too, babe.”

“I like when I’m still stretched open from the night before, and you can slide in me.” Youngjae’s voice trails off in a whisper, and he can see the strain in Jaebum’s jaw, the hunger growing in his eyes. This time, it grows confidence. “I miss you so fuckin’ much. I miss the way you kiss me, the way you hold me, the way you fuck me.” 

Heat surges through his body, and Youngjae whimpers, low and lost at the thought, rolling onto his back. Jaebum can see his side profile from this angle, and Youngjae knows he’ll be stopped if the timing of this is inconvenient. But Jaebum lies in bed with just the lamp light, shirtless, and he’s not complaining, so the sign is a go.

“Do you want to do this? Right now?” Jaebum asks in a low register. “Are you sure, babe?”

“Yes,” Youngjae cups his half-hard erection, eyes fluttering shut. “Haven’t had time to touch myself in days.” Jaebum curses at the information, Youngjae readjusts to slide his hand into his sleep pants. “I can’t wait until you’re back.”

“Are you already hard, Youngjae-ah?”

With his eyes fluttering shut, Youngjae wraps his hands around his dick, breathing out, “No,”

“Touch yourself, baby.”

He does, letting out a sigh, twisting his wrist and circling his fingers tightly, mumbling, “I wish you were here, Jaebummie.”

“Wish I could be there to see it, see how wet you are. I’d taste you— wanna taste you, baby boy. Play with your tip and watch you squirm.” Jaebum hushes his voice, now, and when Youngjae turns to glance at his phone screen propped near his head, he sees Jaebum in a similar position, the camera angled a little weirdly, he’s not fully in frame.

Youngjae circles his thumb over the head of his erection, already slick with precum. “I’m hard just thinking about you.”

Jaebum breathes. Shaky. “You’re so beautiful, so perfect.”

“Remember the last night we got to spend together?” Youngjae closes his eyes, listens to the steady, labored breathing near his ear. “Remember how you pinned me down?” He feels a trace of Jaebum’s fingers on his arms, light and teasing until they wrapped around his wrists. “How you put my knees over your shoulders and you fucked me into the mattress like that? I felt empty for days.” He had been stretched, open and bare and he misses it, misses how Jaebum makes him so vulnerable, but always takes good care of him. His hips jerk and he moans, tipping his head back.

“You’re so flexible, baby, look so good full of my cock. Just wait ‘til I get back, I’m gonna make a mess of you.” Jaebum’s tone drops dangerously. Youngjae imagines the press of Jaebum’s dick against his inner thighs, the drag of his wet tip against his hip bones.

Youngjae keens, his legs spreading, gripping tighter, pulling harder, remembering the last time they were together and Jaebum sucked dark marks against his chest, leaving bruises for days. The marks have faded but Youngjae knew they were once there, and he nearly boils over at the thought of Jaebum kissing hickies in his thighs, on his ass, decorating him.

They’re pretty in sync now, or maybe Youngjae says something out loud, because Jaebum speaks again, low and thick. “Wanna suck your cock, pull on your hair, bite your lips, baby, the way you like. Maybe leave you littered with love bites. If I were there I’d kiss the inside of your legs, your knees, and work my way up your thighs.”

Youngjae wants wants wants, “Please.”

“I’d use my tongue to spread you open,”

Youngjae widens his legs, curls his other hands around his balls and groans. Jaebum’s always so unashamed with it, doesn’t matter if he’s giving or receiving.

“I’d listen to you whine, and beg, your thighs shaking when you get close to coming.”

It’s almost embarrassing how well Jaebum knows how Youngjae’s body works, because his thighs quiver already, precum slick, just enough, and he’s gone almost silent, thinking about it; playing out the image of Jaebum above him, large figure blocking out the light, strong hands curling into his hair, or holding his thighs open, or hooking under his knees to bring him closer and lift his hips off the mattress. Youngjae wants Jaebum on him, over him, between his legs and filling him, and he voices it, voices all his dirty thoughts and closes his eyes and whines his fiancé’s name.

He hears Jaebum come first with a groan, and then, “Come, Youngjae-ah, come for me.”

He does, toes curling and his free hand coming up to push his sweaty locks of hair from his forehead. He blinks at the ceiling, panting, wiping his dirty hand against the sheets. Whatever, he’ll do laundry tomorrow.

Turning to his phone, Youngjae spots Jaebum looking content, his face smushed into a pillow.

“Hey, babe?”

Youngjae hums, thinking that Jaebum looks soft and kissable. “Yes?”

“I want you to fuck me when I get back.”

“Can do.” Youngjae laughs, light and lazy. Sleep starts to take over, brushing against his eyelids and he reaches for his phone. “Should we hang up?”

“Can’t we leave the video call going? So I can wake up next to you?” Jaebum searches the screen but Youngjae doesn’t know what he’s looking for. He grips his phone a little tighter, letting the oversweet affection bleed through his facial expression.

“It’ll probably hang up on us.”

“That’s fine.” Jaebum closes his eyes. “Only two more months, love, and I’ll be waking up next to you again.”

**Author's Note:**

> this was meant to be, like, a cute and fluffy? welp. more cute and fluffy and smut is to come.


End file.
